


A Gift From the Valley of Death (to you the rest of the world)

by Book167



Category: Original Work, Poetry - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Murder, Original Fiction, Poetry, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22567873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Book167/pseuds/Book167
Summary: An original work about how helpless it can be when you grew up dangerous but you sister didn't.
Kudos: 3





	A Gift From the Valley of Death (to you the rest of the world)

She has always been a delicate flower in this house full of thorns  
We are a field of roses:  
Beauty and Grace hiding  
Bloody thorns and blackened hearts.  
How such a loving, laughing Daisy came here  
From such twisted blackened Roses  
Is a mystery I fear I will never solve.

She used to giggle at the sunlight,  
Trace patterns in the air,  
dance with the breezes  
that pulled petals from her hair.  
She brightened up our garden, giving life  
To us black Roses,  
Loving us with her world sized heart.

Until one horrid summer eve,  
While her precious Roses slept,  
A Monster crept closer through the night.  
This Monster clung to darkness,  
Let it fill him up.  
He kept Daisy’s Roses sleeping,  
Giving ample time to destroy.

This Monster raped her, beat her, and bruised her.  
While her Roses dreamt of sun.  
By the time they had awoken the damage - was already done.  
This crawling creeping monster had stolen away  
The light of my Daisy into the darkness fleeing from the sun. 

My thorns ached for bloodshed:  
To find, and rip, and kill.  
But my Daisy did not condone violence,  
So with outreached claws and deadly thorns  
I heeded her urge to lay still.

I tried to understand her,  
Different flower that she is.  
I tried to offer comfort  
To my bleeding, broken little flower.  
But even as my heart wanted to help her,  
I was a jagged thorny Rose  
Too dangerous near her delicately sculpted petals.

I know she wanted to give up,  
Give in, let God have her too young soul.  
I kept my Daisy here, selfishly-  
Trying to protect whatever remained  
Of my once beautiful white flower.  
I saw him once:  
Just a quick glimpse  
A sliver  
Monster of a Man  
Who had dared defile my sister.

All I saw was red.  
And suddenly he was dead –  
So my Daisy could live  
In the world of happily ever afters.

She speaks to me no longer,  
Has turned her petals from my face.  
It matters little to me,  
For I can easily see  
How happy his death has made her.  
Once more she sings with bluebirds  
And dances in summer storms!

My Daisy is happy  
Free  
From me

She is free from our Garden of Shadows,  
Free from our Valley of Death.  
She ripped her roots out of our desolate company.

Daisy, oh my sweet Daisy:  
How I wish you could see  
How happy you are  
To be free  
From us Roses and our pleas.


End file.
